Little
by Lasrevinu
Summary: How the GSR got together, with 100% more weird.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

Rating: M

Spoilers: Grave Danger

Summary: How the GSR got together, with 100% more weird.

A/N: Shamelessly, shamelessly stolen. This fic is actually finished (!) but I'll be posting it in chapters as I tweak some things.

**Little**

Greg's birthday neatly coincided with Nick's return to work fulltime, so in one of those "let's make the most of life" moments friends have after a harrowing experience, they decided to celebrate with skydiving.

Thousands of feet in the air, Nick got the shakes and Greg threw up, and so their parachutes remained unopened and they came up with Plan B: the carnival. And everyone was invited.

"It's probably more dangerous than skydiving," Greg told his friends. "I mean, you've got poorly maintained metal death traps masquerading as rides, employees who use filthy port-o-potties and most definitely don't wash their hands before they prepare food, and then there are the carnies. I mean, it's almost a requirement to be a felon in order to get a job as a carnie. Am I right?"

Catherine groaned.

"Come on, when's the last time you've been to a carnival?" Nick said, smiling.

"My daughter's eighth birthday."

"Well, this is adults only." Greg fidgeted as he nodded in agreement. "Mostly adults," Nick added. "So, is everyone game?"

Grissom cringed. It wasn't that he didn't like carnivals, and it wasn't that he didn't like his co-workers. He just…didn't want to go to the carnival with his co-workers. Social situations were always awkward for him. He did better at work when he had a title and a job to do. His actions were pre-determined. And being the boss usually meant he didn't have to explain his actions to anyone.

It wasn't exactly the same when they were all off the clock. Eating at a diner with them every now and again wasn't too bad. They usually talked about their work and so there was often a place here and there where he could add to the conversation.

He supposed, due to his vast knowledge of all things amusement park-related, he could bring up some statistics about carnivals if he were to go, like the rate of accidents, for instance, or the average number of pedophiles hanging around the kiddie rides…yeah, he supposed he could do that.

Plus, he did like rides.

"I'm in."

Nick smiled and then looked at Catherine who sighed. "Okay. I'm in, too."

Warrick nodded his head and Greg nearly squealed with excitement.

"What about Sara?" Catherine asked.

"She's got court in the morning. I texted her and told her the details. She said she'll be there." Greg cocked his eyebrow at Catherine. "One of you is coming with me on the Tunnel of Love. You two can work it out amongst yourselves," he smiled slyly.

Grissom got up and left just as Catherine was asking the young birthday boy if he'd like to live to see another one.

It turned out to be as awkward as he thought it would be. Having forgotten to bring a present (seriously? A present? Were they in the third grade?), Grissom opted to spring for all of their tickets. They walked the grounds in a large, slightly cumbersome group. A cluster of adults -- sans couples, sans kids -- was an odd sight at a carnival. They were all dressed fairly casually, but still gave off an air of "We're here to investigate a murder." Grissom slowed his step and let them all go ahead of him. He didn't like going to amusement parks with people. It had always been a solitary pursuit for him. The only interaction he wanted was with the rides, and with his own adrenalin as it pumped through him, giving him a little thrill and reminding him that he was alive.

Because he didn't always feel that way.

Sara also strayed from the group, walking a little to the right with her hands hugged around her body to ward off a phantom chill. She wore jeans and a hoodie with a recycling symbol on it, and from behind she could've been a teenager. Grissom dug his hands in his pockets and looked at his shoes as they finally got to the line for the rickety roller coaster. The other four chatted on as they waited, but he and Sara stayed silent. Her eyes seemed unseeingly fixed on their surroundings, as if the flurry of lights and sounds put her in some sort of trance. When her gaze finally caught his -- for he had been staring -- she gave him a small, half smile, but her eyes had the same dark, lost look.

At some point, Warrick gave her a playful punch on the arm and asked her if she was excited.

"I…I think I'll hang back," she said. "I'm not a big fan of roller coasters."

"Oh, come on," Greg whined. "It's my birthday and--"

"Greg, how about Sara and I go look for one of those giant Pixie Stix for you?"

Greg seemed to weigh his boss' offer in his head carefully. "I want a blue one."

A thrill raced through Grissom at his small act of chivalry as he and Sara headed for the food stands in search of a plastic tube full of blue sugar for Greg.

"Thanks," Sara mumbled softly.

"No problem," he grinned. Really grinned. They quickly located the Pixie Stix for Greg. "There are much better roller coasters in Las Vegas -- ones that aren't operated by illiterate junkies," Grissom explained as he handed the carnival worker some money. "I know a guy who lets me do test runs at _New York, New York_. It's great. I could take you some time." Was he really doing this? Was he really -- did he just make a date? Grissom's heart beat so hard in his chest he was truly worried that Sara could hear it.

She smiled and lifted her hood up to cover her head as they turned to head back in the direction of the roller coaster. "I wasn't kidding when I said I wasn't into roller coasters. I'm not."

"You've just never been on the right one," he said, tugging her arm a little bit at the elbow, surprised at how comfortable he was. He, Gil Grissom, was on the verge of being smooth. He was about to talk a girl into going on a roller coaster with him, so he could hold her hand through the dips and swirls and maybe get to third base in the backseat of his car afterwards.

Okay, maybe not third base.

"Roller coasters…are scary," she said, her tone almost professorial.

He laughed as they continued to walk. "The only thing scary about roller coasters is the anticipation. Waiting on line is more nerve-wracking than anything else. But once you're on it, it's a piece of cake!"

"Listen to your dad, dear. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Until the end of his life, Grissom would swear it had been one of those moments when time literally stopped. His head seemed to jerk in slow motion as he turned to see who had uttered those words. There was an old, grizzled carnie pulling out a tool box from a locked storage bin at the foot of the coaster's exit. Grissom saw Sara, too, gaping at the man, her cheeks hot from apparent embarrassment.

_Listen to your dad, dear._

The roar of the speeding car on the roller coaster did nothing to dull those words.

"I, uh…I see Greg. I'll go give him, uh…" She left.

The carnie -- all five feet of him -- looked up at Grissom. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I scare her away?"

"She's not my daughter." He had to say that out loud. He had to. The carnie's words had made him feel dirty. Old and dirty.

"Oh. _Oh. _Okay. It's just…she looks so…but hey -- whatever floats your boat, I say," the old carnie said as he wiped his brow with a dirty handkerchief. "Whatever tickles your pickle."

"She's thirty-four."

Again, it was information that the carnie didn't need to know, but Grissom had to say it anyway. She was thirty-four and not his daughter, and the rest was none of that man's business.

"I'm sorry, sir. Here, I'm going to work on the machine right over there." He pointed to a little glass arcade game with an animatronic Houdini-like character, complete with turban. "It keeps giving back double the amount of change after it reads your fortune. You can have a go, free of charge. I'll even let you keep the change."

Normally, he would've disappeared as fast as possible, leaving Sara and the team and the carnival so fast he'd break the sound barrier, but something about Houdini had Grissom's legs moving towards the game. The carnie knelt down to fiddle with the knobs just as Grissom's right hand reached out of its own accord and pressed the PLAY button. 'Make a wish,' came the command of a lit sign.

And he did.

Within seconds, the Houdini head began to move, working its jaw and tilting its head around as if it were chanting to the gods. The carnie jumped back and a small piece of paper shot out from a heretofore unseen slot. Grissom grabbed it.

"Your wish is granted," he read aloud.

"Hot damn, that thing ain't plugged in!" The carnie wiped his sopping temple. "I tell ya, I think it's time to retire that machine. Out with the old."

Grissom turned his head, and through the crowds was able to locate Sara, standing alone, her hood now once again at her shoulders. He didn't call out to her, yet she met his stare anyway.

_Out with the old._

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

His face was planted so hard in his pillow, had he left it there a few moments longer, Gil was sure his cheeks would've sprouted roots. As it was, he couldn't hit the snooze button one more time. He had to get up.

_He had to get up!_

The creeping sense of urgency was foreign. Gil Grissom was a man of such routine that "urgent" usually wasn't an adjective to describe anything he felt on a regular basis. Then came the knock at his bedroom door.

A knock?

He froze.

The voice on the other side of the door was muffled and sleepy: "Hey, man, if you hit the damn snooze button on your alarm one more time, I'm going to toss it in the fuckin' trash. Not everyone was a douche and signed up for an eight A.M. class."

Gil, palms flat on the mattress, pushed his upper body clear off of the bed and blinked at his surroundings.

At once what he saw was new and yet strangely familiar: a dorm. He was in a dorm.

"Hey, Gil! You up?"

He slapped the button on the digital alarm clock and continued his survey of the room. A dorm? He wasn't supposed to be in a dorm. And yet…and yet he could recall setting the alarm the night before. That picture on his wall -- the one above his desk next to the crimson banner -- he distinctly remembered accidentally banging his thumb with a hammer as he attempted to hang it. And the piles of newly purchased textbooks on the floor -- he knew the receipts for those were in his wallet.

He turned to sit on his rear and moved to rub his chin, but jerked his hand away at the feel of short stubble.

Why did he expect to feel a beard in its place? He shook his head and continued to look around. _The Far Side _calendar on his desk had the date on display: August 21st, 1991.

Why did that seem so, so wrong when he remembered tearing off the previous date, laughing at the cartoon, and tossing it in the trash?

It was August 21st, 1991.

And he had an eight A.M. class.

Gil whipped his head back to the alarm clock and then flung himself out of bed. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He was so late.

He missed the 7:20 shuttle from Dunster House and stood, waiting, for the 7:40. He kept beating his fist against his jean-clad thigh. Late. He was so late. He had to get to class. He couldn't miss his first day of class. The sense of urgency was utterly overwhelming.

And yet when he paused his hand and thought about everything, it didn't seem quite right. In fact, it felt…wrong. Familiar, but completely unfamiliar. Even the sneakers on his feet didn't feel like they were his. It was as if they were broken in by another person.

And why was the sky so gray? Why did it feel like it was going to drizzle on and off until the end of time?

Why did he expect the sun?

Lost in questions, he got on the 7:40 shuttle and by the time he entered the Science Complex, he was late, but so, it seemed, was the professor. The class was small -- fewer than thirty students altogether -- and he took his seat near the back. Before long, he began to nod off, only to awake suddenly at the sound of rustling at the front of the room.

"I'm going to just start," said a voice. A female voice. Gil sat up straight in his seat. All of his nerve endings were on high alert and his eyes searched for the source of those few -- and, for some reason, powerful -- words.

She was thin and tall, with brown hair. She dressed with no remarkable care. Her hair was pulled into -- what were those things called? Crunchies? Scrunchies? _A ponytail_. She had a messy ponytail.

"Hello. This is Advanced Theoretical Physics, and I am obviously not Dr. Herbert Jordan," she said, and there were some scattered chuckles from the audience. "He's…not here. I am Sara Sidle. This is Carl Andrews." She gestured to the tired looking man to her right before turning to her left to point the woman seated by the desk. "And Tina Chin. We'll be heading up the group sessions that take place once a week." After checking her watch, she looked at the door and sighed. "Okay…physics. It's just fancy math, right?" This got a laugh. "But theoretical physics takes the world around us and puts it into mathematical terms, making us able to manipulate situations in order to predict outcomes or explain past happenings. The essence of theoretical physics is both simple and complicated, and it is the melding of the frank and the mystical natures of science that allow us to…I don't know…understand the photoelectric effect or why boats float or the very nature of music."

Gil sat, in awe.

She captivated.

Looking at her, listening to her…for the first time since his alarm rang that morning, he felt like he was where he should be. Everything was right with the world, provided that world included Sara Sidle.

The hour raced by, and too soon did she dismiss the students. Gil found himself antsy at the idea of leaving, and spent more time than necessary replacing his notebook and pen in his backpack. He kept an eye on her as she chatted in the front of the room with her fellow teaching assistants. When it became apparent he was the only student left and there was nothing else to delay him from leaving, he sighed and hoisted his backpack on one shoulder. It physically hurt to know he had to leave her presence. He didn't question why. Something in his brain told him to just accept it as fact. As he was about to walk past her towards the exit, he prepared to inhale so he could savor her scent until the next time they met.

Something stopped him, though.

A hand, gripping his elbow, to be precise.

Gil whipped his head around to see her -- Sara -- smiling at him. She opened her mouth, spoke.

"Huh?"

"A syllabus," she repeated, still smiling as she handed him a couple of sheets of photocopied paper. "You were late. You didn't get one."

"Oh. I, uh. Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I'm not a morning person, either." She let his arm go and turned to continue her conversation with her colleagues.

He stood still, his hand over his arm, where she had held it, and watched her for several moments before he was able to collect himself enough to leave.

Dear God, she probably thought he was a weirdo who couldn't string more than two words together. But something in him -- was it instinct? -- told him Sara Sidle had a kind soul. He knew it as sure as he knew his name. And he also knew that he needed to be near her, that being near her and being with her…he couldn't explain it, but for some reason, she was now his number one priority. Gil wondered if this was love at first sight. He had never been in love, so he had no real measure of it, but every fiber of his being screamed at him that it was more than mere love.

He finally glanced down at the syllabus in his hand and grinned broadly. Under the 'Group Sessions' heading, he saw all students with last names beginning with the letters A-H were in the group led by Sara Sidle.

They would meet again in two days, he thought to himself, feeling a skip in his step as he walked to his next class. He'd borrow a book from the library on Theoretical Physics just to brush up on the subject. He wanted to impress her. She was probably a grad student working towards a Masters in Physics, though she didn't look older than he did. Whatever her age, he didn't mind. He had been a grown-up since he watched paramedics make futile attempts to revive his father while his mother wept and gripped her son fiercely. The majority of his peers were kids in every sense of the word, and the idea of interacting with someone who seemed to take science as seriously as he did…

But it was more than the science. It was as if he knew her. It was as if he knew their interests coincided, that they would get along personally. That she'd laugh at his jokes and understand the torment that was growing up fatherless.

She was his mate. His match. He was absolutely certain.

There were probably rules and regulations against T.A.s dating students, but he figured he could wait until the end of the semester before they started a physical relationship. He wasn't exactly a Casanova when it came to the opposite sex, so a four month deadline actually worked in his favor.

He'd lay the groundwork until then.

Gil was a planner. He knew better than anyone that life could throw curveballs, but he also knew not having a plan made life that much harder when those curveballs came a-comin'. And sometimes, those curveballs were welcome. Sara was a curveball, he thought, smiling to himself. She was unexpected. She threw him for a loop.

But no, he grinned to himself as he headed into the lecture hall, Sara Sidle wasn't at all unwelcome.

He took a seat towards the front of the room and sighed as he tried to remember which class this was.

_Shakespeare!_

Right. The Bard. He had been looking forward to this class since registering for it the previous semester. Gil had read almost every comedy and tragedy William Shakespeare had ever written, and he appreciated them on a level that was probably far beyond his age. He loved to immerse himself in the beautiful language. It exercised the right half of his brain, which was usually neglected during the countless hours he spent pouring over all manner of science textbooks. Though his skill lay doubtlessly in the realm of the analytical, Gil longed to indulge his emotional side. A childhood of pain and torment, of isolation and sadness, had taught him to clamp down on those urges. He used books and poetry and classical music as a substitute for active feeling.

Soon, that would no longer be the case.

As the room began to fill up with other students, Gil's mind once again fell on Sara. He wondered if she read Shakespeare. No matter, though. If she did not, he would have something to teach her, to share with her. Gil sensed her affinity would match his. It had to. And maybe this time he wouldn't be the bystander in all of this. This time, he'd be the romantic hero. And she would be the Juliet to his Romeo.

Only without the, you know, dying and all that.

"Long time, no see."

He twitched, and the sweet dream he was weaving around himself -- a sort of cotton candy fluff made of love -- evaporated as Gil was presented with the real thing. Sara sat down next to him and smiled.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

"You…you're…I thought you were a Teaching Assistant."

She shrugged pleasantly. "I'm a last-minute fill-in. The guy who was supposed to do it had to bow out at the last minute and I took the class last semester, so…they asked me. I'm not doing any grading or anything," she assured him, as if she thought he was concerned a fellow undergraduate student was going to be marking his work. "I'm just going to lead discussions."

"It's not that…I'm just…surprised." _Dear. God. _Could he be anymore awkward? Gil took a deep breath. "I'm Gil. Grissom." He held out his hand.

She looked at it, smiled, and took it. "Sara Sidle." She sat back in her seat and regarded him. "So, Advanced Theoretical Physics and Shakespeare? You're a man of varied interests."

"Well, I'm a biology major, but I wanted to supplement biology with more physics. It was either that or more chemistry, and I find I enjoy the theory behind physics. And the math involved. I'm good at math."

Sara looked like she was holding in a grin. "I'm sure you are."

"And as for Shakespeare," he continued, "I think it's…disadvantageous to envelope oneself completely in science and not develop any appreciation for things like literature and poetry, art and music. I'm very familiar with Shakespeare's works, but I haven't really studied them in an academic setting, apart from having to take part in the obligatory middle school production of _Romeo & Juliet_."

Oh, God, did he just bring up his middle school play? Gil cringed inwardly. His words had left his mouth in rapid fire succession. He wasn't the best conversationalist, and did better when he kept his answers short and to the point, but for some reason, he felt the need to tell everything to Sara.

"Let me guess…you played…Prince Escalus."

His mouth hung open for several seconds together. His part had indeed been the Prince of Verona, the mediator between the feuding Montagues and Capulets. "How…how did you know?"

"I told you," she smiled. "It was a guess. The role, it…fits."

"Were you…were you Juliet?"

She laughed. "Nope. I was Tybalt."

"Tybalt?"

"My eighth grade class was probably two-thirds girls. I got stuck playing a boy."

"H-have you read any Shakespeare since then?"

"Well, not much." His heart sank a little. "Just _Hamlet_ and _King Lear _and _MacBeth_. But that's pretty much it. Oh, and _As You Like It_. And _Othello_."

Gil's smile nearly split his face in two. "That doesn't sound like 'not much' to me."

She shifted in her seat. "But it was just me on my own reading them. I don't know if I interpreted the themes the correct ways or if I understood all the subtext."

"The beauty of Shakespeare is that every time you read through his works, you discover something new. It's why his plays and poems are so timeless." Sara seemed comforted by his words, and this bolstered his confidence. _Come on_, his brain said. _Make a move. You can do it. _"I've read tons of Shakespeare. Maybe I could help you out with it in exchange for you teaching me in our Theoretical Physics group sessions."

"Sounds good," she said just as the professor walked in and introduced herself.

Gil did not hear a word of the first lecture. Not one single, solitary word. Sara's "Sounds good" echoed in his head, drowning out all of the sounds around him. He could hear only her, feel only the heat radiating off of her arm, mere centimeters from his.

This was the beginning.

After class was dismissed, they grabbed a quick bite to eat and he took her to his favorite used bookstore; they scoured the shelves, looking for hidden treasures.

She was his intellectual equal. Not only did she have a similar capacity for knowledge, but her curiosity, her thirst for information, matched his own. Gil sensed that, for some reason, learning meant a great deal to her personally. It wasn't vanity that propelled her intellect. She was not one of the many students on campus whose quest for knowledge revolved solely on the pride of maintaining a 4.0 GPA. No. No, something told him it was much deeper than that.

Before he could question why he was so sure of this, Sara beamed at him from her spot in the next aisle, and called him over to share in her find.

They walked, picked up dinner, and walked some more, finally settling on a park bench where they sat mesmerized in conversation. It wasn't until his throat became sore and he heard birds start to chirp that he checked his watch.

"My God," he exclaimed, looking around to see dawn break beyond the leaves of the trees. "It's morning!"

She blinked and checked her own watch. "I can't believe it!"

Gil stood, a bit flustered that he had lost track of the time. "I had better get you home. You haven't slept."

She laughed and got up off of the bench. "Neither have you." He smiled sheepishly at her, and watched as she tilted her head to the side and reached her hand out to cup his cheek, rubbing the skin there with her palm. Her mouth moved to say something, but he couldn't hear her. A split second later, he couldn't see her, either.

His vision went black, and his ears popped, as if he were in a vacuum.

And then there was a flash and he saw her again. But it wasn't her.

Was it?

She had a…a cap on. And coveralls. She was…she looked a bit older.

_Chalk._

He moved his mouth to speak, and was suddenly brought back to the world as he uttered his words: "What did you say?"

There she was again: Sara. His Sara. She laughed. "I said you need a shave."

Self-conscious, Gil rubbed his face. He hadn't shaved the day before because he had been late, and was now sporting some serious stubble. But she touched him. She caressed his face. He turned his head away, pretending examine their whereabouts, and let out a smile.

When his alarm rang almost twenty-four hours earlier, he felt so out of place, so uncomfortable in his own skin.

But when she touched him, when she brushed his cheek and smiled, he knew he was where he needed to be. He knew he was home.

Gil walked Sara back to her place. It was out of his way, but he didn't care. Any chance to spend more time with her was worth it. They didn't have any shared classes together that day, so he knew that if he was going to see her, he'd need to come up with some excuse for them to meet up. Maybe they could study together. Or have dinner. Or see a movie. Or see a movie, _and then _have dinner.

Yes, he thought to himself as their arms brushed against each other as they walked in silence. They could sit together, all cozy at the movies, and then go out to the diner again and eat and talk for hours, like they had done the night before. Several times, Gil moved to open his mouth, but he couldn't seem to find his voice. He'd never really asked a girl out before. Sometimes girls would find him attractive and chat him up after class or in line at the bookstore, but he'd say the wrong thing -- talk too much about Reduviid bugs or Einstein or not compliment them on their hairstyle or whatever -- and the expressions on their faces would go flat and they'd just…leave.

But Sara was still there. After hours and hours of him talking about Reduviid bugs and Einstein, she was still there. And she was smiling.

And he didn't even have to compliment her on her hairstyle.

He knew he should just do it, just ask her to hang out. She obviously liked spending time with him. They had lots in common. Gil was sure she'd say yes. Probably. Maybe.

He remained quiet.

They got to her door and he still couldn't speak. She smiled at him, and then turned to put her key in the lock. "So…I guess I'll see you in class tomorrow?"

He nodded dumbly at her, and watched as she walked into her place. She stood in the doorway and smiled again at him, beckoning him to speak.

"Uh…bye," he said, his voice squeaking slightly.

Dear God, was he twelve?

"Bye, Gil."

He stared at her closed door for a full minute and then cursed himself the entire way home. The day slogged by, sour and uneventful. Gil could barely pay attention to his professors as they lectured. His mind was on Sara, and he was filled with anticipation. He wanted to see her again. He needed to. The next morning, instead of being late for Theoretical Physics, Gil arrived a full half hour early and parked himself in the first row, right where he knew the TAs sat. They'd chat before class, sit close together during class, and then walk side-by-side to their shared Shakespeare class.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Sara walked into the lecture hall ten minutes later. Their eyes met, and she beamed at him.

He felt good.

She walked towards him and dropped her bag on the floor next to his.

He was floating.

She turned her head at the sound of voices. He heard her say, "Dr. Jordan, I had a question about the syllabus." Gil looked up to see the two other teaching assistants he recognized walking alongside a munchkin of a man who was about as wide as he was tall.

_Listen to your dad, dear. There's nothing to be afraid of._

The lights went out, and he was in a vacuum again. He was numb, but didn't realize it until the numbness went away and his head throbbed with a searing pain unlike anything he had ever felt before.

He saw flashes: Sara, sitting in a lecture hall. Her hair in a ponytail. She was looking up at him. Smiling.

The vision went away and all he heard was her voice. "It's me!"

He saw her again, her hair curly and shorter. It was sunny and there was a crowd of people. She seemed happy to see him. But just as he moved closer to her, she faded away and was replaced by a sad Sara, crying quietly in a dark doorway. Then there were more tears, only this time, he was holding her hand. They were sitting on a couch together. She was weeping. Gil could feel his chest tighten.

He stopped breathing when he saw her crouching in a fetal position on a white, tiled floor. Her skin was pale.

Lifeless.

On the small of her back was a tattoo of a red butterfly. Red, like the blood dripping from the slash spanning her throat.

It all went black and he was numb once more.

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I uploaded the last three chapters. Please don't ask for a sequel.

* * *

The next time Gil opened his eyes, he saw a fluorescent light. He blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the brightness.

"You're at the hospital. You had a seizure."

Gil braced himself on his elbows and whipped his head around towards the sound of the voice.

_That voice._

There he was: Dr. Herbert Jordan. Only he wasn't Dr. Herbert Jordan. Gil closed his eyes and saw him again: the old carnie, a worn cap on his head, his face smudged with grease. When he looked at Dr. Jordan once more, the man was smiling.

"You…you…"

"So, have you figured it out yet?"

"Who are you? Who am _I_?" Gil asked, flustered. "Where's Sara? Why was she…why was she crying?" The visions swirled in his head, and the red butterfly had his blood turning to ice. "Where is she?" he yelled, hurling himself out of bed, his IV ripping out of his skin in the process.

"Sara is fine."

"What…_is going on?_"

"What do you remember, Gil?"

"You…and Sara. But…not Sara. She's older. In my head, she's older. And sad. Did I know her?"

Dr. Jordan pressed his fingertips together and watched him for a moment before he spoke. "In another time and place, yes. You wished for this, Gil."

"For what?"

"To be young."

"I'm…I'm old?"

"Well, when you made this wish, you were old_er_. Specifically, you were concerned about the difference in ages between yourself and Sara. You wanted to be young. You wanted a chance with her on an even playing field. And you got it."

"How much older am I?"

"That doesn't matter, Gil. All you need to know is that you got what you want. You're young. And you have your chance with Sara. Take it."

The doubt that kept him from speaking when he walked her home the day before came creeping back. "But…but what if she doesn't want to be with me? I mean, she obviously wasn't with me before. Why will this be different?"

"Silly boy. She's known you for three days and she's half in love with you already. In fact, she's in the waiting room, pacing, worried sick." Dr. Jordan hoisted himself up from his seat and settled his hat on his head. "Let's see if the boy is more wise than the man. Take your chance with her, Gil. Trust that she'll love you as you love her."

He moved to leave, but Gil rushed to the door, blocking it. "I have to know something."

"What?"

"In my…in my visions…I see her…and she's…"

"Dead?"

Gil swallowed. Fear kept him from nodding.

"It's not her, Gil. It's someone who shares a resemblance to Sara. Yet this woman's death was a vital turning point in your life."

"Why?"

"Because it brought up all your fears. Unfortunately, you couldn't find it in yourself to face them." Dr. Jordan reached for the doorknob and pushed open the door. "Don't make the same mistake again." He walked out into the hallway and paused to turn back to Gil. "The next time you see me, you won't remember any of this. The visions will fade. The memories will fade. Sometimes you'll get a bit of déjà vu, but that's normal. You'll have the life you wanted."

Gil watched him walk away. He was utterly confused and utterly determined. He would not forget. There was no way a person could forget that conversation. Or the visions. They were so real. He would never forget the image of Sara weeping. It was burned into his brain.

Or so he thought.

Sara appeared in the doorway, and what once was evaporated, and all that existed was the here and now. She was pale with worry, and when she saw the blood drip down his hand from where the IV needle once was, she rushed to his side, cradling his arm and putting pressure on the wound.

"Sara, I'm fine," he said, smiling.

"You had a seizure."

"I'm fine." He grinned at her.

"The doctor is supposed to come soon. I think she said something about keeping you overnight for observation."

"That's so silly--"

"Gil, this is serious!"

He could see from the look on her face she was worried, and decided it would be best not to argue with her. For some weird reason, he knew deep-down that there was nothing wrong with him, but not following the doctor's advice would make Sara unhappy, and he wanted so badly to make her happy.

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"What's your favorite book?"

She looked at him, doubtful. "Why?"

"Just answer."

"_Moby Dick._"

"I assume you own a copy." When she nodded, he continued. "Go get it for me. I'm going to need something to read if I'm going to be stuck here."

After some hemming and hawing, and after interrogating the doctor, Sara left to run her errand for Gil. She returned with the book and some takeout. "Bless you, Sara," he said as he bit into his burger. When she handed him her battered copy of _Moby Dick_, he flipped through the pages quickly, smiling at the little notes she'd jotted in the margins. When he saw the stamp on the inside back cover, he raised a brow. "The Tomales Bay Public Library? Sara, I had no idea you were a thief," he laughed.

"I didn't steal it," she said emphatically. "The librarian…she saw how much I took it out, so the next time the library was ordering books, she got an extra copy of _Moby Dick _and let me keep this. It was pretty worn out by then, anyway."

Something told him there was more to the story. The last date stamped was November 1982. Sara couldn't have been more than twelve at the time. Even he hadn't read Melville's classic until he got to high school. And why wouldn't her parents just buy her a copy if they knew she loved it so much? It was a cheap paperback.

He held his tongue, though, and decided to save those questions for another day. His gut was telling him to take things slow, that there was much more to Sara than what was on the surface. She was smart and confident and lovely and all good things, but she was also very delicate. He hadn't seen it before but, for some reason, it was so obvious to him now.

_Slow, Gil. Take things slow._

He did. For the next couple of weeks, he laid the foundation. He saw her almost every day, but casually. Their interaction revolved mainly around school and schoolwork. He'd offer tidbits about his life, but could see she was more comfortable with safer topics. Sara didn't volunteer much information about her personal life. He knew she was from California, but that was it. Her life before she came to Boston was a mystery, save for the librarian giving her the old copy of _Moby Dick_.

Still, he didn't press.

"Did you figure out what you're going to write about?" she asked before biting into her sandwich. They sat in the noisy dining hall, huddled together in a corner. Their usual spot for lunch -- a bench outdoors -- was a no-go due to the heavy rain.

"Probably _King Lear_. What about you?"

"I have no idea. I always get so nervous about writing essays. I'm better with numbers and science."

"Sara," he began, putting down his apple and making a face, "have you ever received any grade lower than an A in any English class in your life?"

She smiled sheepishly. "No."

"I didn't think so."

"Will you help me anyway?"

He grinned. "Of course."

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

They worked furiously on their essays and spent hours honing their words, editing, proofreading, re-editing. Gil knew that his first draft probably would've landed him an A, but he couldn't resist the lure of extra time with her. She was adorably finicky about her writing. A perfectionist. Even after they had printed their essays at the computer lab, she made them sit at a table while she went through both papers for typos. He found a discarded newspaper and flipped to the crossword puzzle. Sara was in possession of his pen, so he mentally went through all of the clues, invisibly filling in the boxes as best he could. He was more than three-quarters of the way through when he heard her say his name.

"You're not reading your horoscope, are you?"

He laughed. "Of course. 'Leo: You will fail your Shakespeare class miserably because Sara missed a mistake on the third page of your _King Lear _essay.' What are you?"

"Virgo."

He stopped short when he noticed the dates by the Virgo symbol: August 23rd to September 23rd. He had met Sara on the 21st of August and they had been virtually inseparable since then.

It was September 14th.

He shifted in his seat. Had her birthday passed? And if so, why didn't she mention it to him?

"When…when is your birthday?"

"September 16th. That's Virgo, right? I'm pretty sure that's Virgo. Not that I pay attention to this stuff. It's possible I'm wrong."

"Your birthday is in two days?"

"Yeah. The date the essay is due. Happy birthday to me, huh?" He could tell she was trying to brush it off, and usually when she attempted to deflect the personal stuff, he let her, but something told him to continue with the topic.

"We have to celebrate."

"Gil, no, I don't really--"

"You can pretend we're celebrating handing the essays in. But we're doing something on the 16th."

She sighed and reluctantly agreed.

"So, how old will you be?"

"A lady never tells and a gentlemen never asks."

"Come on."

"I'll be twenty."

"I just turned twenty on August 17th. I can tell you all about what it's like. I'll help usher you into your third decade of life," he joked. "I'm an expert. I've been doing this twenty-year-old thing for almost a month."

When she laughed, he knew he had her.

He picked her up from her place at dusk on her birthday. Gil refused to tell her his plans, save that she should wear comfortable clothes. He borrowed his roommate's car -- in exchange for spending the weekend tutoring him for an upcoming histology exam -- and drove them several miles outside of Cambridge.

"You're seriously not going to tell me where we're going?"

"It's a surprise."

"I'm not underdressed, am I?" she asked self-consciously, fidgeting with the sleeves of her well-worn sweater. Sneakers and jeans completed her ensemble. "You did say wear comfortable clothes, so…"

"You look great."

When he pulled into the parking lot, he turned to see the look on her face.

When he saw Sara's frown, Gil felt like he had been punched in the gut.

"A…carnival?"

He cursed himself. How could he be so stupid? It was her birthday. And she was turning twenty, not five. She probably wanted to go to a nice restaurant or a play or something.

"I…I go to this one every year. They always have it in the middle of September, before the weather starts to turn too cold. I always go alone. I thought…"

She turned her head and smiled, but he could tell it was forced. "It's great, Gil."

They walked to the entrance without talking, and he bought two wristbands that gave them unlimited access to the rides. "So…" she said, facing him, "since you're the expert, which one is your favorite?"

"The rollercoaster, without a doubt."

Her face went pale.

"But if you're afraid of heights, then we could…there's the tilt-a-whirl."

"I'm not afraid of heights." She stood straight and stared at the coaster. "Let's do it."

They waited on a line for some time. Periodically, he would attempt to reassure her that there was nothing to be afraid of, but she would only smile tightly and turn back to face the ride. The time came for them to get into their rickety car and Gil got in first, hoping his taking the first step would help to ease her fears.

But she froze.

"I…I can't do this."

In a flash, she sped away, past the line, straight towards the ticket counter where they had entered.

"In or out, buddy?" the carnie asked him.

Without a word, Gil unbuckled himself and ran for Sara. He found her breathing heavily in the parking lot.

"Sara, I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were afraid of roller coasters. I'm sorry. This was such a stupid idea."

"No, Gil, it wasn't. _I'm_ sorry," she said. He was about to re-claim the blame when she broke down into sobs. His arms found their way around her form, and he spent the next half hour just holder her in a parking lot, while the sounds and sites of the carnival were muted in the distance.

When she could cry no more, she apologized again and he apologized right back. He quietly led her to the car, not sure where they should go or what to do next.

He moved to put the key in the ignition when she spoke: "I owe you an explanation."

Gil stilled his hand. "You don't owe me anything, Sara."

"No. I…I do. I know I haven't really talked about my past. You've shared so much with me -- your father dying, your mother's deafness -- and I…I don't tell you anything. I've been so grateful to you for not asking questions, because I don't talk about my past. As a rule, I just don't. But I…I need to explain the way I reacted tonight, because it's not your fault. At all. You need to know that."

He reached his hand out and grabbed hers. "You don't need to tell me anything you don't want to."

She wiped her nose with her free hand and let out a watery chuckle. "It's weird because I think I want to. Tell you."

Gil squeezed her hand in support.

"I…the last time I was at a carnival…oh, fuck it. Gil, my dad used to beat my mom. He was a horrible, horrible man. During the summer, right before I turned thirteen, a boy in my class asked me to go to the carnival with him. He was the first boy to ever like me, and I liked him for liking me. I asked my mom if I could go, and she said yes. When my dad came home from work and found out where I was, he went to the carnival and found me and the boy coming off the roller coaster. He called me all kinds of names and jerked my arm so hard my shoulder came out of its socket. He said I was a dirty slut, just like my mother. And all I did was hold hands on the ride with the boy."

Gil had heard the phrase "see red" before, but he had never known it was literal as well as metaphorical. His vision blurred and blood rushed to his face as anger permeated his body.

"The next day, my mom killed my father. She went to jail, and ended up dying there. I was put into foster care. The end, I guess." She sniffled, and then finally looked up to meet his eyes.

He lifted their joint hands to his lips and kissed her fingers. Sara's eyes closed, and he could see a lone tear leak out from the corner of one eye. "I've never told anyone that before," she whispered. "But I knew it would be okay to tell you. Something about you…I just knew."

Before he knew what happened, she was in his arms again, only this time the embrace had nothing to do with comfort. Their lips were locked together, and soon she was in his lap. His hands wandered, shyly at first. When she didn't resist his grip on her waist, he moved his palms to cup her ass. When she only pressed into him harder, Gil let his hands slip under her sweater. Sara pulled her lips from his and began to kiss his ear. "Tell me you have a condom," she breathed.

He stilled.

Gil took in his surroundings.

_The glove compartment._

He reached for it and the small door sprung open to reveal a stash of prophylactics. "Thank God my roommate is so promiscuous," he said, and she laughed loudly before smacking a kiss on his lips.

"Sara, Sara, wait," he said, holding her face still with his hands. "Are you sure? You've had a rough night and…"

She dug her hips into his. "I've wanted you since I first saw you."

He groaned. "Okay. Okay. But we've gotta find some place more private. I think I saw a motel about a half mile from here. I think it's where the carnies stay when they're in town."

She was in her seat and buckled before he finished his sentence. "Drive."

TBC...


	6. Chapter 6

The good thing about seedy motels is that when two adolescents want a room, no questions are asked. The ancient clerk handed them their room key and went back to his magazine. Their long walk to the room was quiet. Gil began to feel nerves for the first time since they kissed. He was about to have sex! With Sara!

When they got to their room, his hands were jittery as he put the key in the lock. He opened the door to the room -- _their room _-- and followed her into it. Sara sat down on the bed and leaned back on her hands, pressing her lips together as she examined their surroundings. Gil stood awkwardly, not sure what move to make. He had never done this before.

"I didn't need help writing my essay."

He squinted at her, confused, and shook his head. "What?"

"I just pretended I did to spend more time with you."

Gil laughed and then pounced. They made out, fully clothed, for a while, rolling around on the bed and groping like the teenagers they almost were. Soon, articles of clothing began to come off, one at a time. Without awkwardness or embarrassment, Gil explored Sara. He couldn't explain why, but it was as if he knew what to do. To be sure, there was a little bit of fumbling around, but instinct seemed to kick in. With the condom on, he climbed back atop her and kissed her once more. She broke the kiss quickly, though, and looked up at him with sober eyes. "I haven't exactly done this a lot of times before."

"I haven't done this ever."

She laughed and pulled him back into the kiss, and within seconds he was inside her. Home.

They found their rhythm. Lost it. And then found it again.

It was exquisite.

When it was over, all Gil knew was that he wanted to do it again, and that he loved Sara Sidle.

"I love you."

He blinked at her. "What?"

Sara blushed. "I…I know it's too soon to say. I'm sorry. I just…I had to say it. I've never actually said it to anyone. Ever. In my life."

The only thing that bothered him was that he hadn't said it first. He reached for her. "Sara, I love you."

She stiffened. "You don't have to say that. Really. I'm sorry I opened my mouth. I ruined the moment."

He turned quickly, kneeling on the bed to face her supine form. "Sara, I love you." He stood up on the lumpy mattress. "I love you more than…everything."

Her eyes widened. "Everything?"

"Everything. You name it, I love you more. I love you," he repeated, softer this time and got back down and pulled her into a hug. "Thank you."

She giggled against his throat. "For the sex?"

He laughed. "For sharing…everything…with me. And for the sex. Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"Happy Birthday."

By the time they left the motel the next morning, they had nearly depleted his roommate's stash of emergency condoms. "I'll go to the drugstore and buy him another pack," he told Sara as the got into the car.

"You should probably get two packs."

"But we only went through the one."

She arched a brow at him. "I meant get a pack for us, genius."

"Oh. Okay." Jeez, he was hard again. He started the car and pulled out of the motel parking lot. "We had sex twenty minutes ago, and I already want to do it again."

"Believe me, I'm in the same boat."

Gil looked at her and smiled. He'd definitely get more than the one extra pack. Instead of just dropping her off at her place as planned so she could get ready for classes that morning, they couldn't find the strength to say goodbye to each other. "Why don't you come in?" she asked, her lips against his.

"We'll miss class."

"I know."

"We never miss class."

Sara's hand moved to rub the bulge at his groin. "I guess we'll have to continue this later," she teased.

He had her in her apartment and up against a wall in under a minute.

And they still managed to get to class on time.

By the time the semester came to a close, they had hit a stride in their relationship. They ate together, they studied together, they slept together -- but Gil didn't feel crowded. So much of his life had been spent alone, in silence, that suddenly having someone by his side constantly should've been overwhelming.

But it wasn't.

Instead, she was a comfort.

At first he thought he would be distracted by the sex, but having someone to share all the things he learned actually made the information stick better. Knowing that all the things he read in books or heard from professors could be told to Sara gave his learning a new dimension. And hearing all she had to say only compounded it.

The best thing was having someone to hold during the night. They would make love, whisper their 'I love yous' and he would know that, tomorrow, it would all happen again.

They hit their first roadblock as they got ready for Christmas vacation. Sara was hesitant to meet his mother.

"She'll love you," Gil insisted.

"You don't know that," Sara said worriedly. "What if she asks questions about…you know…my past?"

"She won't."

"How do you know she won't?"

"Because I told her not to. I didn't give her specifics," he assured her. "I just explained that it was a sensitive topic and to try to avoid it."

"What if she thinks I'm not good enough?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not ridiculous," Sara said sharply.

"My mother is a nice woman. She'll see how much I love you, and she'll be happy."

"I'm afraid, Gil."

He sighed and pulled her into a hug. "I know you are. But you have to trust me. You like how I turned out, right?" he asked, pulling back to get a good look at her.

"You know I do."

"Well, that's all my mom's work. She raised me. And I love you. She'll love you, too."

And she did. It took a little while for the two women to get beyond awkward politeness, but they managed to forge a true friendship. By the time Gil and Sara entered their senior year, his mother was addressing her letters to the both of them. And when she came to Boston to see them graduate that Spring, she brought her mother's engagement ring as Gil had asked.

When she handed it to him, she had tears of joy in her eyes. "My only wish in life was for you to be happy," she signed to him as she placed the small velvet box in his palm. "And now I know you will be. Because you have Sara."

The ring was snug in his jeans pocket as they made their move to New Haven for graduate school. Gil had decided to attend medical school while Sara pursued an advanced degree in physics. He got a secret thrill picturing their mail in the future, addressed to Dr. & Dr. Grissom.

They rented a furnished house close to campus and drove down from Boston right after graduation. They both were eager to start their new life together. Change had never really been something Gil looked forward to, but somehow, when Sara was holding his hand, he knew he could take any change.

He parked their U-Haul in front of their new house on a cool May evening. They had retrieved the keys from their realtor and were all ready to move in.

"Take the lighter boxes, honey. I'll handle the heavy ones."

_Honey._

He was trying that one out. He felt it fit, and Sara seemed to like it. She usually retorted with a "Yes, Gilbert," which always made him chuckle despite the fact that he hated his full name.

They didn't have very many belongings, so between the two of them, unloading the truck wasn't that much of a hassle. The engagement ring was becoming ever more present in his thoughts with each box he brought into their new house. She smiled at him as she made her way back to the truck. "It's getting chilly."

He just nodded at her, his mind still wrapped around proposing marriage.

Sara reached into a cardboard box and pulled out a green sweatshirt. She slipped it over her head and pulled the hood up. "This is the last box," she said, smiling at him. "Time to go home."

Gil was about to smile when he looked at her, but something stopped him.

That hoodie. With a recycling symbol. Sara.

He closed his eyes and could see her. But it wasn't her. It was…it was another Sara. She was also smiling at him, but she was sad. She was still sad.

Wherever she was, whenever she was, she was hurting.

It all came flooding back. He was Gil Grissom, nightshift supervisor of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Old. Lonely. With no one to go home to. And somewhere -- some time -- was the Sara Sidle who stayed even though he never gave her a reason to. There was the Sara he never never dared to hug for fear he wouldn't be able to let go. The Sara who was waiting to be loved.

Gil opened his eyes again and watched her happily cart the box into the house.

"I can't stay here."

"You can if you want to," came the familiar voice. Dr. Jordan…the carnie…whoever he was…walked up behind him. "You can stay here. You love her."

"I love the girl. I _adore _the girl," he said softly, walking across the small lawn to watch Sara through the big living room window. "But it's the woman who makes me ache." Gil turned around. "I need to go back to her."

"You can do that."

"But what about…" His words died off as he watched…himself…shut the U-Haul door and check his pocket once more for the ring. The young man before him, the facsimile of himself, exhaled loudly and then walked the pathway to the house and entered.

Grissom and the carnie stared through the window as Sara talked happily about their new home while she walked over to the fireplace to place a vase on the mantel. When she turned back around, Gil was one knee, holding the ring up to her.

She cried. He cried.

They embraced. Gil lifted Sara, spinning her around in a circle before capturing her lips with his. It was almost as if they were watching a movie.

"Will he love her?"

"Of course he'll love her. He's you."

For the first time, Grissom caught his reflection in the window. There he was again: old, fat. Tired.

The carnie sighed. "It's time to go." He turned and started to walk, and Grissom followed him down the sidewalk, unsure of where exactly they were going. The wind began to whip around them, blowing leaves and hail, and he half expected to be whisked back to Kansas like Dorothy, but on the ground they remained.

"You're worried about her, aren't you?"

"Yes," he confessed.

"Turn around."

Grissom did as he was told, and from a distance he could see the rented house. A car pulled up in front of it. A Volvo. He saw himself get out. He was probably in his late-twenties then, judging by the grey that had started to creep into his hair.

"I drive a Volvo."

Gil stopped at the passenger door and opened it. He helped Sara out. She looked…frail. Her hair was wavy and to her shoulders, and she was beautiful as ever, but something about her demeanor lacked the vitality he was used to.

He took a step forward. "What's wrong with her?"

"Just watch."

Gil moved to the back door and opened it. Out popped a little girl. Maybe four or five years old.

"Go with Mommy, sweetheart," Gil said.

The girl grabbed Sara's hand and began to pull her excitedly towards the house.

Just as Grissom was absorbing the scene, he saw his younger self reach into the car and pull out an infant seat. Gil smiled at the newborn sleeping snugly beneath the blankets. By the time he reached the door, though, the baby was wailing.

"I think someone's hungry," Gil said, and he shut the door on his other self.

Grissom swallowed. "They're a family. Sara just had a baby. Children. I have…no, I don't. I don't have children. He does."

"Do you regret your decision?"

He thought of Sara, alone in the future. "No. She's happy with him here. That's enough for me. I need to be with my Sara."

Within a literal blink of the eye, he was back at the carnival, his eyes locked on Sara's. He made his way toward her, the crowd seeming to part like the Red Sea, creating a direct line to her, his future.

Just as he reached her, the rest of the gang exited the ride.

"Cool, you found a blue one!" Greg eagerly took the sugary treat from Sara's hands.

"I have a migraine," Grissom blurted out. Everyone but Sara looked at him. "My head…it's killing me. Sara…she's going to drive me home. I don't think I can drive."

While the rest of the group looked concerned, Sara was obviously bewildered. He knew that the moment he said the word "migraine," she thought he was making an excuse to get away from her, not to get away so he could be with her.

He grabbed her by the elbow and hightailed it out of the carnival. "You didn't bring your car, did you?"

"No. Warrick picked me up."

"Good." He was about to hand her his keys when he realized he didn't really have a migraine, so he was safe to drive. Grissom moved to the passenger door and held it open for her. He could see she was absolutely mystified by his actions. Most likely out of sheer disorientation, she got into his car. He quickly followed suit. Before he started the car, though, he turned to her.

"I love you."

"What?"

"I'm sorry, but was my turn to say it first."

With that, he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. Sara said nothing until they were on the highway. "I'm a little confused."

"That's funny. Because for the first time, everything for me is perfectly clear."

THE…BEGINNING.

A/N2: This fic was pretty much based on the movie "Big." Gotta give credit where credit is due.


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